New Beginnings
by Blood And Gold
Summary: The pupils of Slytherin House return from their summer to find themselves with a new house master - one Severus Snape, former student and, unbeknownst to them, a former Death Eater. How will this sullen young man measure up?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note - Before this is read, I'd just like to point out this is the most difficult thing I've ever had to write. There is not much information available as to what Snape would be like at this point in his life, so most of this is educated guess work. I hope you will forgive me if you think I have gotten him wrong. _

**_Disclaimer - Severus Snape and all affiliated characters, places etc. are property of the ever-so-clever Joanne Rowling. _**

~ Chapter One ~

Another Year

"So who do you think our new house master will be then?"

Lenora looked up from her compact mirror and across the compartment at her friend. It was September 1st, the beginning of Lenora's sixth year at Hogwarts. She and her best friend Rose were several hours into the journey of the Hogwarts Express and, having exhausted a summer's worth of gossip, including who had gone missing, where the Death Eaters had last been spotted and such other unpleasant things, the conversation now turned to the more promising concept of the coming term.

Lenora gave a non-committal shrug, stowing her mirror away in the pocket of her robes.

"I don't know," she sighed. "To be honest, I was surprised it took Slughorn this long to retire. The man's great and all but he's hardly valiant: I thought he'd have been holed up, hiding from You-Know-Who long before now. I can't think of anyone who'd want his job at a time like this."

"I hope it's someone cute," Rose mused, as she pulled out an emery board and began dragging it absently across her nails. Lenora threw her a scathing look.

"Is that all you ever think about?" she said pointedly. "There's a war on, Rose. Besides, I think there are more important qualities in a head of house, don't you?"

"I guess. But we never have any cute teachers. It'd be nice to have something to look at it."

Lenora rolled her eyes.

"Honestly Rose, I know you're my friend but sometimes you are so shallow I could hit you."

Rose looked up from her filing, her eyes round and reproachful.

"I'm not shallow," she responded, defensively. "I just appreciate aesthetics, that's all. Besides, you can't talk – you've been pouting into your mirror for the last hour."

"Oh, please, that's hardly the same," snorted Lenora, waving her friend's comments aside with an impatient hand. "Not like you. You live for two things; beauty products and boys."

"Alright then, Miss Holier-Than-Thou, what qualities do you want in our new head of house?"

"I want someone who will do our house proud," Lenora answered quietly. "With…with _all that's going on _right now, Slytherin house needs a redeemer."

Rose continued to gaze thoughtfully at her friend but did not respond. Lenora was not surprised; it was rare for a conversation that did not involve shoes or Dorian Barton from the year above to catch Rose's interest. For a Slytherin, she did not have much house pride – only pride for herself. It was a given as far as Lenora was concerned: exceptional vanity was often an accompaniment of exceptional beauty.

The two girls spent the rest of the journey without further mention of the new head of house. Four games of exploding snap and a particularly brutal chess match, in which Lenora's knight beat Rose's king into submission, passed the time until the Hogwarts expressed pulled into the station. Lenora and Rose took a carriage with two Slytherin boys – Marius Barton, brother of Rose's much-desired Dorian, and Vincent Cauldwell.

"Good summer, Parkinson?" Vincent asked Lenora, lounging in the seat opposite her.

"Hardly," sneered Lenora. "I spent most of it helping my mum deal with my brat sister. All she ever does is cry! I tried to cast a Silencing Spell on her once or twice but mum was having none of it."

"Babies suck," Marius affirmed, with a sympathetic nod. "How about you, Ettard?"

"Six weeks in the south of France," Rose yawned. "Parent's wanted to get away from the whole You-Know-Who thing. Full of goody-goody Beauxbatons kids. Very dull."

"I can imagine," muttered Vincent. "Glad to be back, then?"

"As ever," Lenora and Rose chorused in unison.

"Bets on the new head of house?" suggested Marius. "I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to install a non-Slytherin with all that's happening."

"He wouldn't dare!" Lenora growled, a little more ferociously than she'd intended to. "There'd be an outrage-"

"An outrage amongst _Slytherins_," Marius interjected. "Since when has Dumbledore cared for the feelings of the serpent house? Especially now…"

"It's not fair," sighed Lenora, turning away from Marius to stare out of the window. "This is going to be held against out house forever, isn't it?"

The three other Slytherins did not respond. Lenora knew that troubled times were lurking ahead for Slytherin House. She could only hope that their new housemaster or mistress would be strong enough to lead them through it.

"Did – has anybody you know…" Marius began, but trailed off without finishing his sentence. He didn't need to – everyone in the carriage knew what he was about to ask them.

"No," breathed Lenora. "We've been lucky."

"And me," Rose added. "Though I heard Rebecca Griffith's mum… well, I don't think she'll be coming back this year."

A heavy silence fell upon the occupants of the little carriage, which not one of them dared to disturb. It was not uncommon for such conversations to crop up – their school years had, after all, been overshadowed by the threat of the Dark Lord from their first year and though they were encouraged to live their school days with as much normalcy as possible, even Voldemort veterans like themselves could not partake in frivolities when such unsavoury subjects occurred.

The Entrance Hall was already bustling when the four Slytherins arrived, quite the contrast to their reticent ride up to the castle. They saw no-one they recognised, so they made their way straight into the Great Hall for the feast. Lenora smiled half-heartedly as she looked upon the decorated Hall once more. Being back at Hogwarts always made her feel safe again. Life outside of the castle's confines was tense. When she wasn't under house arrest "for her own safety", she would be scurrying chastely about her necessary chores with her head down, talking to no-one, always sticking to well-populated areas. A task as simple as buying a loaf of bread or fetching some more floo powder from the apothecary would make her parents sick with worry, fear they might never see her again: such was the time that they lived in. Hogwarts, whilst not removed from Voldemort's influence, was at least an opportunity to focus on something other than impending doom. It was a glimmer of hope in a dark, dark time.

The Sorting Hat was upon its usual stool on the platform, its rumpled features giving the impression it was looking down at the passing students, still judging them. Lenora instantly looked past it to the high table, curious to catch a glance at the one unfamiliar face she expected to see. Sure enough, sitting on Dumbledore's left, a seat once occupied by Horace Slughorn, was a young man; he was pale-faced and dejected, almost hiding behind his curtains of shoulder length, black hair. His face was one Lenora had seen before, though precisely where she did not know. Behind her, she heard Rose give a disappointed sigh and she fancied she knew why; he was not exactly the looker her friend had been hoping for.

"I know him," Marius whispered, as they took seats at the Slytherin table. "That's Severus Snape. He was accused of being a Death Eater not long back."

"How do you know that?" asked Lenora, casting another look up at the high table.

"My father works at the Ministry," Marius explained. "He got off because Dumbledore vouched for him."

"He's young," Lenora mused, barely listening to her classmate. "He looks too young to be a teacher."

"He was in sixth year when we were in our first," added Vincent. "I remember seeing him around the corridor. Hung around with a bunch of kids who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

As he said it, memories of the same pale, hook-nosed young man flooded Lenora's mind. She had passed him in the corridors in her early years, seen him stalking the grounds with his boisterous gang of associates. He had not long been a student just like her. How then could he be both Potion's Master and Head of Slytherin house? Surely there was an age limit on such a senior teaching accolade?

"Take your seats, please!" came the shrill voice of Professor McGonagall from over the sea of heads. "The Sorting is about to begin!"

As she spoke, a steady trickle of first years meandered through the double doors and up to the platform.

_So few of them_, Lenora thought. _We'll_ _only have a couple or so this year. _

Professor McGonagall unrolled her parchment list, which was becoming several feet shorter each year: apparently some parents did not share her view that Hogwarts was the safest place to be right now. Beside her, Lenora heard Marius and Vincent exchanging bets in a manner that reminded her of muggles at a horse race.

"The dark haired one – no, not that one, the taller one – he's a Slytherin for sure," Vincent was saying.

"I'll agree on that," whispered Marius. "But that blonde girl has Ravenclaw written all over her face."

"I'll bet you two galleons you're wrong."

"You're on."

"Allerton, Jason," Professor McGonagall called, casting a stern glare in the direction if the Slytherin table: apparently she had heard them.

"Do you remember our Sorting?" Rose reminisced dreamily, as Jason Allerton was sorted into Hufflepuff. "Dorian Barton shook my hand, said I was destined to be a Slytherin."

"Apparently, the news that my brother is most likely gay has not reached your ears," Marius goaded her, grinning in satisfaction as Rose whirled around, an indignant expression on her face.

"He is not!" she hissed. "You all say that because you're jealous."

"Oh yeah?" countered Marius with a raise if his eyebrows. "Then what was he doing in a broom cupboard with Salem Henderson last term?"

"That was a dare!" Rose protested, glowering at Marius as though this should have been obvious. Lenora laughed.

"Don't bother," she advised Marius, as Rose's gaze drifted down the table to where Dorian was deep in conversation with a very attentive Salem Henderson. "As long as she holds a candle to your brother, she will be blind to his less-than-heterosexual indiscretions."

She smiled at Marius, who grinned back, and then turned to watch the remainder of the Sorting. The dark haired boy – "Flint, Augustus!" – was sorted into their house, along with, to Marius's surprise, the blonde girl who went by the name of Adeline Sloane.

"Two galleons, if you please," smirked Vincent, holding out his hands gleefully. Marius grumbled mutinously as he dug the shining gold coins from the depths of his pockets and surrendered them to Vincent's outstretched palms.

"Six in total," Lenora muttered. "We've had better turnouts."

"It'll get better," Vincent assured her. "People are scared. They think if they pack their kids off to school, they might never see them again"

At that moment, their conversation was interrupted by Dumbledore getting to his feet. A hush fell across the Great Hall, as every ear in the room strained to hear what the headmaster would have to say.

"Welcome students, new and old, to another year at Hogwarts!" he declared to the silent room. "Though it is in less than happy times that we have come together, we here at Hogwarts are determined to strive onwards, even through the greatest of hardships."

Here he paused, and for a moment his usually radiant face looked as grey and tired as Lenora had ever seen it.

"There are," he continued, "several announcements which I must make. For now, however, let us simply celebrate the onset of another glorious year. Enjoy!"

With a clap of his hands, the multitude of golden dishes and platters filled themselves with sumptuous food. Lenora ignored the feast before her, even as her friends began to dig in. Instead her eyes travelled up to the high table, to Dumbledore and the dark haired man upon his left. Each of their faces bore similar expressions: complete exhaustion mingled with a deep sort of sadness, badly masked, in Dumbledore's case, with an attempt at a warming smile. She found herself anticipating the coming evening in the common room and the traditional speech delivered by the Head of House at the start of term. What would this pallid, pitiful looking young man have to say to them, she mused. Could he be the redemption their house greatly needed?


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer - Severus Snape and all affiliated characters, places etc. are property of J.K. Rowling. Not mine!_**

~ Chapter Two ~

First Impressions

Once the feast had concluded, the rather sparse spattering of Slytherins made their way expectantly down to the dungeons. Lenora, Rose, Marius and Vincent met with the other sixth years and journeyed together to the common room.

"Do you think he'll even give a speech?" asked Rose, as she delivered the new password – "monkshood" – to the closed common room door, which grated aside to allow them access.

"Well if he's anything of a Slytherin he will do," Vincent replied. "It's traditional."

The subterranean Slytherin common room was already glowing with the tenebrous light of several fireplaces, around which many winged armchairs were silhouetted. To their immense surprise, one of these chairs was already occupied – by none other than their new head of house.

"Sir?" exclaimed Rose, mirroring the look of surprise on each student's face.

"Sit," Snape commanded. "All of you, if you please."

The Slytherins scrambled to find seats. Lenora, Rose, Vincent and Marius sought chairs as close to their housemaster as possible, which was easy, as many of the younger students seemed to be steering clear of his searching gaze. Once the students had settled themselves, Snape began to speak in a very soft yet stern voice.

"My name, in case you were not paying attention earlier, is Professor Snape and I will be your Head of House and Potions Master for the foreseeable future."

He paused momentarily and glanced around the room, as though daring anyone to question his new authority. Nobody did, so he continued.

"Now I happen to know that your previous housemaster, whilst a perfectly respectable educator, was more than a little lax with you. I have great respect for Horace Slughorn, but I would not hesitate to say that his hedonistic attitude to his position here was partly responsible for the predicament we are in today."

Lenora's eyes widened: did he mean what she thought he meant? If he did, well it was a bold statement to make on one's first day. Slughorn, indeed, had been a little more indulgent than instructional at times, but to suggest that his attitudes had contributed to Voldemort's rise to power? It was harsh, to say the least. Apparently this showed on her face, for the new teacher was scrutinising her with dark, searching eyes.

"Do you think I am wrong, Miss…?"

"Parkinson, sir," Lenora responded, a blush creeping onto her cheeks; there was something strange about addressing a former student as "sir", something she found a little embarrassing. "I don't think you're wrong," she continued, "but I don't think you're right either."

Opposite her, Rose began to shake her head vigorously, signalling her to stop. It was too late: her words had already taken their effect. Yet to every Slytherin's surprise, their new housemaster did not shout.

"How very loyal of you," he said, without a hint of sarcasm. "However, to recognise a person's faults is not detrimental your loyalty. Professor Slughorn was not the only teacher at this school not to recognise the darkness brooding in the young Dark Lord: he had charm enough to disguise his foulest of intentions. However, it cannot be denied that leniency led to lack of intervention, and lack of intervention has put us where we are now."

He paused for a moment to allow these words to sink in. Lenora would not like to admit it, but it was perfectly true. Judging by the dejected faces of her housemates, they knew so too.

"However," Severus Snape continued, "it is never too late for change. From this moment, I want things to be very different.

"In these dark times, Slytherin house finds itself at a low. To say our representation is poor would be the understatement of the century. The terms "Slytherin" and "Death Eater" have become too close in meaning for comfort, and it has affected our reputation, both outside the castle and within. Naturally, whilst you are here, the opinions of those outside these walls should not matter to you. However, you will have to face the prejudices of your classmates and co-workers on a daily basis."

Snape rose from his chair and strode over to the fireplace. He gazed into the flames for a moment, apparently contemplating his next words. When he spoke next, his voice was considerably softer.

"Understand, by recognising this situation, I am by no means condoning it. It is perfectly unfair and quite unjustified… but these are times of fear, and in their fright, human beings will often look for someone to blame."

"That's us," murmured one of the new first years, looking thoroughly disappointed.

"That's us," Snape agreed. "And I am sorry that each and every one of you has to be burdened with that. It's not easy being the house that stands alone."

Again he paused, casting an angry glare into the crackling flames of the fireplace. Lenora could see the pain on his face as though it were a mask. _He knows what it's like_, she thought_. He was here when all of this began. He knows. _

"NEVERTHELESS!" their housemaster barked quite suddenly, making several of the students jump in their seats. "_Nevertheless_, we are not going to sit here and feel sorry for ourselves. That will achieve nothing. We are going to prove them all wrong.

"I expect two things from you whilst you are here, two simple things. The first is loyalty. You do not have to be a genius to figure out why. There may come a time quite soon when you have no one else, and you will need to rely on each other. Thus you will work together. You will help and respect each other. You will not play tricks or tattle on one another – unless, of course, you believe them to be unsafe. You will not put each other at risk. And most importantly, you will stand up for one another: it is not only Gryffindors who can be valiant."

Snape strode slowly away from the fire. He began to circle the clusters of chairs, his hands behind his back, scrutinising the faces of each of his new wards.

"The second thing I expect," he began silkily, "is hard work. I will personally see to it that each and every one of my students works themselves to their limit in all areas. I see no reason why anyone should settle for anything less than his or her best. Your best does not have to be spectacular, but I will know if you are working to your highest possible standards."

He smiled a dark little smile before continuing.

"Therefore, I must insist that you strive to behave yourselves. Be polite and attentive in all of your lessons, no matter what manner of treatment you receive from your peers or mentors. No one expects anything good to come of you, but that does not mean that you shouldn't either. Work hard. Prove yourselves. Show them that Slytherins can be more than just Death Eaters."

And without another word, he strode silently out of the common room, his long, black cloak billowing out behind him.

"Bugger me," Marius Barton whispered. Lenora and the others nodded in assent.

***

The next morning, the Slytherin table was alive with talk of last night's pep talk. Lenora, like many of her housemates, was astounded by the strength and ferocity that had come from their seemingly morose and uninspiring new housemaster. None of them had expected such integrity and frankly they were all delighted.

"He's just so…Slytherin!" breathed Vincent, raptly. "He's just what we need."

"Never saw it coming," Marius murmured, not noticing that he was spreading butter on his hand rather than on his toast.

Lenora glanced up to the high table. The newest appointment was looking as quiet and unremarkable as he had done at last night's feast. It was surprising how calm he appeared considering he was new to his role. Today would be his first day of teaching. Lenora wondered how many students he would wow – or terrify – with his intensity.

"When have we got Potions?" Lenora asked, tearing her gaze away from the staff table – it was only a matter of time before he noticed her staring.

Rose whipped her timetable out of robe pocket.

"This afternoon," replied Rose simply. So far, Rose was the only Slytherin who hadn't quite taken to their new head of house; Lenora suspected she was sulking because he wasn't the Dorian Barton clone she'd been hoping for.

The sixth years spent their morning doing Charms with the Hufflepuffs and Transfiguration with the Gryffindors. Nearly everyone continued these subjects at NEWT level, so the classes still had to be split. However, as they headed down to the cool confines of the dungeons, they noticed the Potions class was so small it consisted of students from all houses: six Slytherins, five Gryffindors, three Ravenclaws and two solitary Hufflepuffs.

"Is it that bad a subject?" Rose murmured, as they queued eagerly outside the classroom door.

"No, it's just that the entry grades have gone up," Marius explained, "Half the people who put their name down didn't get the OWLs."

Lenora and company joined the two other sixth year Slytherins who were in the queue: a skinny, dark haired boy called Chase Burlington and a pretty blonde girl by the name of Sisi Lestrange.

"I've heard he was one of the best Potion's students in the school," said Chase quietly. The Slytherins exchanged excited glances.

Behind them, the heavy door to the dungeon classroom creaked open. Snape's voice came floating out of the crack in the doorway.

"Enter!"

The handful of students filed nervously into the classroom. It had changed little since their last year; the desks were still arranged in twos around the twenty or so cauldrons. In fact, the only difference was the absence of Slughorn's personal trinkets – the walls and teacher's desk were quite bare in comparison to previous years. Sixteen sub-cauldron fires had already been lit.

Lenora and Rose sought a table at the front of the room, with their fellow Slytherins not far behind.

Snape closed a black, leather-bound ledger from which he had been reading and looked up.

"Those are Slughorn's notes," Marius whispered behind her. "He must not have had chance to write his own syllabus yet."

"Silence," Snape called and the babble of chatter fell to a hush. "This is a NEWT class and your utmost concentration is required. Therefore, I recommend that you cease talking."

He swept to the front of the classroom and pointed his wand at the blackboard; thin, spidery writing began to appear on its obsidian surface.

"Today we will be brewing the Draught of Living Death," he informed them. "Put your books to one side. You shall be following a slightly alternative set of instructions from those outlined in _Advanced Potion-Making_."

Lenora and Rose exchanged glances.

"Start by preparing your ingredients as outlined in the book," Snape continued, beginning to pace the stretch of floor at the front of the classroom. "However, there is one exception. When it comes to cutting the sopophorous beans, you will find it more effective to crush them for the optimum yield of its juices."

Beside Lenora, Rose began to giggle. Snape raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.

"You may begin," he instructed. "I will inform you in good time when you are to vary from the written instructions."

The students set to work preparing their ingredients in their pairs. Lenora began meticulously chopping valerian roots, whilst Rose set about crushing sopophorous beans with her dagger.

"Very unconventional," Lenora murmured quietly, aware that their teacher was now sitting only a few feet away.

"How would you know?" scoffed Rose. "We haven't done this potion before."

"Just because you don't look at your books before you use them," Lenora sniffed. She glanced up at Snape's desk: he was looking at a very old, battered copy of the textbook, which seemed to be heavily vandalised. She watched him for a moment, wondering if the scrawled additions to the pages were his own. Quite suddenly, he looked up and Lenora turned back to her roots, trying hard not to blush.

"Good," he told her quietly. "But no smaller than that."

She nodded and began adding her freshly chopped valerian to the cauldron. Soon their potion was a rich shade of mauve and, according to their book, it was time to begin stirring.

"When you agitate your potion," the Potion's Master called, " add one clockwise stir after ever seven counter clockwise."

"That's not what it says in the book," muttered a Gryffindor boy from the back of the class. He was not unheard.

"I think I have already established that we are not following the book," Snape murmured, icily. "But if you believe me to be wrong, Hartson, by all means stick to book and see where it gets you."

Daniel Hartson blushed furiously and muttered something about not meaning to question anyone. There was an embarrassed silence but soon enough a low buzz of conversation returned to the room as pairs began whispering instructions to one another. Lenora was delighted to see that their potion was turning a pale hue of lilac with each cycle of stirs.

"Well, stone me," Rose exclaimed in an undertone, just as Snape swept past them, giving their potion a curt nod of approval. "His way really does work, doesn't it?"

Lenora could only beam in response. The Potion's Master was now meandering around the classroom, inspection each student's work with a steely countenance. The Slytherins, who had followed his instructions to the syllable, had all managed to successfully produce a Draught of Living Death, as had the majority of the other students. However, there were a couple potions that had not reached the final stage of transparency.

Snape paused by a cauldron belonging to two Ravenclaw girls, Jennifer Sykes and Petra Clearwater; both girls blanched under his disapproving glare.

"Who cut the valerian roots?" Snape asked, as he eyed their luminous pink concoction. Jennifer Sykes raised a shaky hand.

"You butchered them," Snape informed her bluntly. "Precision, Miss Sykes, the books says, "Precision is vital". Remember that or next time it will be five points from Ravenclaw."

He strode away to hound on two Griffindor boys, whose potion was emitting a foul smelling cloud of black smoke.

"They don't look too happy, do they?" Rose observed, nudging Lenora and gesturing at the pair of Ravenclaws. Jennifer Sykes looked quite hurt, whilst Petra Clearwater, who was squeezing her friend's hand, was glowering at Snape's back.

Indeed, as the class filed out of the dungeon at the end of the lesson, there were quite a few glares and dirty looks thrown in the new teacher's direction. Luckily for them, he did not notice: he was busy supervising the two Gyffindor boys, who had been made to stay behind and scrub out their burnt cauldron.

"I don't think they like him much," stated Rose to her fellow Slytherins, as they made their way back to their common room.

"They just don't get him," Vincent said wisely. "They didn't hear his speech last night – they don't know he's only trying to make them better."

They had reached the common room door and Marius paused to whisper the password.

"I didn't care much for his speech," sniffed Sisi, as the stone door to the common room slid open to grant their entry. "It's a bit hypocritical from an ex-Death Eater."

She said goodbye to them all, and strode off to the girl's dormitory. Lenora scowled at her as she left.

"We have to live with that," she grumbled to Rose. Behind her, Chase shook his head.

"Don't listen to her," he said. After a quick glance around, he dropped his voice before continuing, "She's the younger cousin of Rudolphus Lestrange, isn't she? You know, the Death Eater? She was banging on about him to me all lesson – thinks he's brilliant. Old Rudolphus has probably passed on some prejudice; he wouldn't much of someone who'd deserted his precious master."

Lenora continued to frown.

"How are we supposed to redeem ourselves with people like her around?" she complained.

"Don't worry too much," advised Marius. "She might change her tune yet."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note - Sorry for the delay in this folks. It has been ready for submission but I've been so busy with my editing work that I've had little time to sort it all out. However, here it is - Chapter Three of New Beginnings. Enjoy. _

~ Chapter Three ~

Detention

It did not take long for word to spread across the school; the new Potions teacher was not a force to be reckoned with. By the time they were two weeks into the term, students from all houses and all years had had the chance to experience the hard-handed guidance of Snape for themselves – and most of them had not taken to it well. Snape's "constructive criticism", as his house liked to call it, had already earned him nicknames of a rather rude and unpleasant nature. The young housemaster seemed relatively unaffected, but the Slytherins were despondent.

"What is their problem?" Lenora sighed one evening at dinner, as she watched some students from the badger house glower up at Snape over their shepherd's pie. Apparently, he had come down hard on a class of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw second years, who had failed to produce an adequate batch of Swelling Solution.

"Let's face it," Vincent shrugged, prodding his vegetables dejectedly. "They're just not Slytherin enough to handle this tough love thing."

"I agree," joined in Dorian Barton, who had settled down next to the sixth years, much to his brother Marius's annoyance. "Everyone I've spoken to from other houses reckon he's a monster. It's change – they can't handle it."

Rose, who was sitting next to Lenora, vocalised her assent quite vehemently. Lenora noticed she had barely touched her meal.

"Do you think it bothers him?" she wondered. "He's only been here just over a fortnight and already people are bitching about him. That can't be a nice feeling can it? It must be difficult enough starting a new job…"

"He seems fine," shrugged Rose, without taking her eyes off Dorian. Lenora shook her head exasperatedly and looked up to the high table.

Snape looked like a mere child in comparison to the sage and seasoned faces of the veteran staff of Hogwarts. Yet, if his new responsibilities or reputation fazed him at all, it didn't show. His face was remarkably placid as he sat before his empty plate, responding to whatever attempts at light conversation Dumbledore was trying to make.

"Just because he looks fine," Marius murmured, "doesn't mean he is."

After dinner, Lenora, Rose, Marius and Vincent agreed to head to the common room to do some work; Professor McGonagall had already given them a rather beastly Transfiguration assignment, and they had decided to take her advice and start it sooner rather than later. However, as they crossed the Entrance Hall in a bid for the dungeons, they were distracted by snide comments from some Gryffindor loiterers.

"Oh look, if it isn't the sneaky, slimy Slytherins," sneered Daniel Hartson, their Potions class contemporary. His companions, a girl named Lucy Towler and another boy, Quillan Stamp, laughed along. "I'm surprised you're all still in school. Not run off to join You Know Who yet, like the rest of your lot?"

"Get bent, Hartson," Marius retorted.

"Yeah, you're just pissed because you're not the favourite in Potions anymore," sneered Lenora. Her fellow Slytherins laughed. Daniel Hartson reddened to an alarming shade of beetroot.

"No, because that's you now, isn't it?" Lucy Towler cut in and she began to advance towards the group. "Has it escaped you attention that your precious new teacher never has a bad word to say about you? I guess it's to keep up your spirits. He probably knows that nothing is going to come of any of you."

Lenora had heard enough. She drew her wand from the pocket of her robes and pointed it right at Lucy. Several passers-by darted out of the way.

"You take that back," Lenora snarled, amber eyes flashing, just as Lucy drew her own wand.

"Never," the Gryffindor responded, calmly. "It's the truth."

In her anger, Lenora hurled a Stinging Hex straight at Lucy. She deflected it and sent it flying back. Lenora managed to jump out of the way, but not before Snape and McGonagall had come rushing out of the Great Hall in time to see everything.

"Stop this at once!" Professor McGonagall shouted, hurrying over to her students. Lucy lowered her wand and glared at the Slytherins.

"They started it," she lied, sullenly, tucking her wand inside her robes.

"I don't care who started it!" cried Professor McGonagall, her eyes wide with rage. "This is unacceptable behaviour. Miss Towler, come with me. I'll leave this one to you, Severus, as she is one of your own."

Snape looked at her blankly as she frog marched Lucy Towler up the marble staircase. Then comprehension dawned on his face.

"Indeed," he said, recovering himself with a swift, searching glare at Lenora "Miss Parkinson, I'm going to have to give you detention. You know full well magic in the corridors in prohibited."

"Yes, sir," Lenora conceded, with a weary sigh.

"My office," Snape instructed her. "Eight o'clock."

He gave her a peculiar look, almost sympathetic, and then swept off ahead of them to the dungeons.

"Tough break," Vincent consoled her, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "It could have been any of us. Silly bint."

"Just goes to show what they really think of us," Lenora murmured. "Snape was right."

They slumped off miserably to the Slytherin common room. The next few hours were supposed to be spent working on their Transfiguration task: Professor McGonagall wanted a five foot essay on the exceptions of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. However, when eight o'clock rolled around, not one of the Slytherin sixth years had written more than twelve inches. They had been much more interested in speculating what their new housemaster would set for the first detention of his career.

"You might be lucky," Ellen Swanson, a fourth year, had advised. "He might not know what he's doing yet and just set you something simple."

"Or," Salem Henderson countered, "he might figure he needs to set a standard and make you do something awful."

Eventually, Lenora had banned anyone from mentioning it, threatening to Tongue Tie the next person who did. She had been given plenty of detentions before, but this was the first time she had ever been nervous about one: she blamed her housemates and their idle conjecture.

At precisely eight, according to her watch at least, Lenora knocked on the Head of House's office. Her gesture was met by a curt call of "Enter."

The office Snape had been given could not have been more different than that of his predecessor. It was smaller, for a start, and much less ostentatious; the walls were adorned with simple shelves rather than rich fabrics, most of which were not occupied yet. There was a substantial desk, upon which were a number of boxes, and chairs on either side. A large store cabinet dominated the far corner of the room, which, too, was surrounded by many crates and boxes. Apparently, Snape was still in the process of unpacking.

Lenora found him knelt on the stone floor next to cabinet, sifting through one of the many boxes. Her nervousness dissipated somewhat.

"You're on time at least," he commented, without looking up.

"Just as you asked," Lenora responded brightly. She stood over the teacher, politely observing his activity until she received her own task. It was a good minute before he next spoke.

"Sit," he instructed her, finally. "And take a box. You are to assist me."

Lenora was quick to obey; she knelt opposite him and grabbed the nearest crate. It was full of smaller boxes, bottles and jars.

"Potion ingredients?" she asked.

"Correct," replied Snape smoothly. "They need to be organised properly."

"And you're going to help me, sir?" Lenora asked, with a slight smile. This situation was fast becoming more and more amusing to her as the moments passed.

"I am quite particular," he explained. "I want to make sure you're doing it right."

There was a slight pause before he went on.

"What a pity you are my first detention. I did not expect it of you."

Lenora reached into her crate and removed three small jars of dried asphodel.

"You can't be mad at me, sir," she protested pleasantly. "It _was_ kind of your fault."

"Oh?" Snape responded, with a sardonic raise of his eyebrows. He removed the jars from her hands and packed them away in the cupboard.

"Well you did tell us to stand up for ourselves," smiled Lenora. "And that Lucy Towler was being a complete bi-" Lenora began, but caught herself just in time. "Well, she wasn't being very nice," she finished quickly.

"Well, I cannot deny your intentions were noble," said Snape returning her smile. "Perhaps, though, picking a fight in public was not the best way to go about it."

Lenora continued to smile as she unpacked a bottle of toad slime and handed it to her professor. For all his wise words, she could not help but feel that their tutor/tutee relationship did not seem genuine. He was, after all, only several years her senior. She found it difficult not to behave with him as she would an older housemate. Something as simple as calling him "Sir" made her want to giggle.

"You seem to have mastered this well enough," Snape noted, and he got to his feet, brushing a sheen of dust off his robes and trousers. "Continue with that, Miss Parkinson, whilst I attend to these."

"As you wish, sir," Lenora responded, without thought, and at once she had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. She did as she was told, continuing to pull out bottles and jars from her crate and organise then into the cupboard alphabetically. There were some particularly unusual and exotic ingredients that Lenora had never encountered before; she wondered if it would be inappropriate to ask about them. Snape, however, answered her unasked questions before she had dared to voice them.

"Those with the red labels you will not use until next year," he informed her. "That is, of course, providing you pass this year."

Lenora looked up to catch the wicked little smile that was playing about his lips.

"You think I won't, sir?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows in turn.

"Not if you keep getting into trouble," said Snape, lightly.

This time Lenora did laugh; her housemaster simply smiled and returned to his work.

It did not take Lenora long to stock the store cupboard with all of Snape's personal ingredients. She was herself exceptionally organised and had had plenty of practise in organising her own books, records, wardrobe and so forth. When the last of the ingredients had been safely tucked away (a large jar of powdered bicorn horn), she rose to her feet, closing the cupboard doors.

"All done," she announced quietly. A quick glance at her watch told her only half an hour had passed- he would not let her go yet. Sure enough, he looked up from the large, glass jar he was labelling and raised an eyebrow.

"Already?" he queried.

Lenora nodded

"Well then," he admonished, "you had better come over here and make yourself useful."

Lenora obeyed and sidled up the Snape's desk. He pressed two of the glass jars into her hands with a simple "Hold these." Then, with a flick of his wand, he conjured up a pair of stepladders with which to reach the highest of the shelves. He climbed them and waited for Lenora to pass him one of the jars.

"Are these experiments, sir?" the girl asked, as she handed over a large, spherical one filled with some red potion and what appeared to be half a dragon heart.

"Something like that," Snape replied. He placed the jar carefully onto the shelf above his head and turned to take the next one.

He and Lenora made light work of their task, she passing him jar after jar whilst he lined them up on the shelf. Each one was filled with something both foul and fascinating: Lenora was so interested by a mummified hand suspended in purple gel that Snape had to snatch it off her before he could put it away.

"Sorry, sir," she had grinned, sheepishly, before turning to hand him the next one.

Soon enough, there was only one jar left on the desk. It was considerably larger than the others and full of frogs' legs floating in blue oil. Lenora had to use all her strength to lift it and pass it to her housemaster. Snape took it, with some difficulty, and managed to lift it high enough to push it onto the end of the shelf. But he had not done it properly. As he turned to step back down the ladder, the jar began to wobble on the edge of the shelf.

"Sir, look out!" Lenora cried. It was too late. Before Snape could even whirl around, the jar teetered and then toppled off the shelf, crashing down upon the young man's head. There was a sickening crack and glass, frogs' legs and blue liquid were showered across the room. Snape swayed on the spot then tumbled to the floor.

"Oh no!" squeaked Lenora, and she hurried forward the help her professor. She pulled him away from the ladder, out of the wreckage of glass, oil and dismembered frog limbs. He was out cold and, upon inspection of the impact spot, had a substantial gash on the crown of his head, which was beginning to trickle with blood. Lenora's healing charms left a lot to be desired. She considered running to the common room for help, but thought better of it; by the time she found someone, he could have lost a lot of blood. Instead, she pulled out her wand, and severed two pieces of fabric from the hem of her robes. One of these she scrunched up and pressed tightly against the wound on Snape's head. The other she turned her wand upon.

"Aguamenti! she cried, and a jet of icy cold water shot from the tip of her wand, soaking the material. She then dropped the wand and with her free hand, squeezed the excess water from the dripping fabric before placing on her housemaster's forehead.

"Please wake up, please wake up," she whispered frantically. If she could just get him to regain consciousness, then she would be able to help him to the hospital wing; he was too heavy for her to carry and levitating him would only risk further injury.

She dabbed at his forehead and temples lightly with the damp cloth, all the time applying pressure to the cut with her left hand. _Please someone come by_, she willed silently in her head. _I can't help him on my own._

Several minutes passed and Lenora began to panic. Just as she was considering going for help after all, she heard a tiny moan escape Snape's lips. His eyelids flickered and snapped open.

"Professor!" Lenora exclaimed, the relief audible in her voice. "Are you alright?"

Snape's black eyes slid from the girl who was leaning over him down to the stepladder and the remains of the shattered jar, which lay fanned out around it.

"What happened?" he murmured, lifting a hand to his forehead and grimacing.

"The jar fell off the shelf and hit you," Lenora explained gently. "You've injured your head. I'd have healed it if I could but I can't. You need to go to the hospital wing."

"That's not necessary," muttered Snape. He sat up slowly and felt the back of his head; there was blood on his fingers when he pulled them away. "I can heal it," he said. "But I need you to guide me."

Lenora nodded. Snape pulled out his wand and pointed it in the vague direction of the back of his head. Lenora took his hand tentatively and guided the tip of his wand to the gash in his scalp. She parted the hair that surrounded it, with some difficulty owing to the blood, then gave her teacher the go ahead.

"Episkey," Snape mumbled. A warm, white light left his wand and passed over his wound. It did not completely heal, but it did manage to stop the bleeding.

"It's ok now," said Lenora softly. "But you should still go to the hospital wing - you might have a concussion!"

"I'm fine, Lenora," said Snape impatiently. He made an attempt to get to his feet only to wobble and go careering towards his desk.

"Careful!" Lenora cried, grabbing him just in time, though almost knocking herself over in the process. "See, what did I tell you? We're going to see Madam Pomfrey."

She helped Snape into a chair for a moment whilst she cleaned up the mess left behind by the broken jar.

"Evanesco!" she called, waving her wand; the liquid, broken glass and scattered frogs legs vanished. Then she turned her attention to the young man, reeling on the chair next to his desk.

"Right, let's go," she suggested. It was a tricky manoeuvre, helping Snape to his feet: Lenora had to support him whilst he walked to make sure he didn't fall over again, which was difficult being several inches smaller than him.

Had the circumstances been different, Lenora would have found the situation quite funny. It seemed their roles had reversed; she was now the carer and instructor, whilst he was relying on her. He had even reverted to using her first name, which teachers throughout the castle rarely did.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked him. "Do you need to stop?"

"I'm just dizzy," he murmured. "I'll be fine."

Lenora nodded and they continued to trudge together up to the hospital wing. It felt strange to be in such close proximity to a professor, as young as he was; she could smell the fresh laundry scent of his clothing and feel the movement of his chest as he breathed. She found herself blushing quite against her will and wondered if he felt similarly awkward.

When they reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was changing the sheets on one of the beds. She was so surprised to see a student accompanying an injured teacher, and not the other way around, that she dropped the pillowcase she was holding.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, and she dashed forwards to help the professor. "What on earth happened here?"

"There was a mishap, Madam Pomfrey," Lenora explained. "Professor Snape was hit on the head. The wound is ok but I think he's concussed."

The matron helped Snape onto a bed then whipped out her wand.

"Lumos!" she cried, and she shone the tiny light that appeared on her wand tip into Snape's eyes, muttering to herself.

"You've had quite a knock, Professor," she declared, extinguishing her wand and stashing away in a pocket of her apron. "I'm going to have to keep you here overnight to make sure everything's ok."

"That is quite unnecessary," snarled Snape, who was clearly growing more agitated by the second. "I am fine."

"Nonsense!" barked Madam Pomfrey. "You can barely walk straight. You need bed rest and observation."

She began to fuss over her patient, forcing him back onto the bunk and setting about taking a pulse.

"You may go, Miss Parkinson," she called, without even looking up. "Professor Snape will be perfectly fine."

Lenora nodded and turned to the door. Before she left, she glanced back over her shoulder. Snape was looking straight past Madam Pomfrey, a disgruntled expression etched on his face. Lenora gave him an apologetic look before scuttling out of the hospital wing, her cheeks burning once again.

_Final Note - I hope you all enjoyed it. Just before you get fed up and stop reading, this is not going to be a teacher/pupil romance piece. ;) Not even in the slightest. I won't give any more away than that. _


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